the game was rigged
by Not that way never go that way
Summary: Post Volume 7 Fix-It fic. Heavy on the angst at first, but it does end happily.
1. Chapter 1 lies & hurt

Everything good is, and always has been fated to corrupt and break. It wasn't fair, but nothing ever was.

Qrow saw this lesson repeated throughout his life, reinforced by the natural cruelty of the world. It seemed like every time he barely managed to pull himself out of the lowest low, something would come back to finish the job and ensure he knew that all was hopeless.

There was a sort of vague awareness of being transported and locked up, but everything was blurry and hard to understand. The only thing that Qrow could focus on was the bloody pin he held in his hand, reminding him of what he'd done. Reminding him that this time, he couldn't blame his misfortune on his semblance- this time, the fault was entirely his own. Everything had just been so much. The adrenaline of having just finished their fight with Tyrion, the news of Ironwood's terrible plan, the realization that Clover wasn't going to be listening to reason. He knew it was wishful thinking, but something yanked out of his chest in longing for Clover to understand, and if not stand by him, then at least let him go.

Clover had always been a reasonable person, he thought. A bit of a show off, but he found it was incredibly endearing.

It turned out Qrow was the one who didn't understand Clover. He had no idea how deep the devotion and trust for Ironwood ran in Clover, but it was enough to be beyond question. Only now that Qrow is alone in his cell with nothing but the bits of blood to smell and his terrified grief to hear could the actions Clover took begin to seem reasonable and Qrow's own actions unjustified. No matter how fresh the hurt, no matter the chaos of the situation, he shouldn't have sided with Tyrion. Now, the blood was on his sword, and though Clover's death hadn't been by his hand, it may as well have been. For all means and purposes, it was.

A first and last chance had been given to him by Clover, a potential future where his life was controlled by neither his semblance nor his fears had suddenly been possible when they were together. Clover even wanted that too, too, or at least it had seemed that way.

As Qrow squeezed the four-leafed clover pin hard enough for his hand to consider bleeding, he curled in on himself and fought desperately to prevent his mind from spiraling ever further into the dark until he could fall into a sleep that he could only wish for to be dreamless.

* * *

Everything bad is, and always has been, fated to fix itself.

That said, when Clover awakened to a number of bright lights in his eyes, horrible pain in his lungs, and most of his body entirely unable to move, he didn't feel particularly lucky.

The doctors told him he'd been recovering for several weeks and that Clover had been unreasonably fortunate that someone with a rather good healing semblance had been nearby enough to bring him back from death's door in the nick of time. He'd been unable to respond to the information. Unable to respond to anything at all, in fact. Breathing tubes did tend to get rather in the way of polite conversation. Nonetheless, he was fine and apparently was going to recover alright if given proper time and care.

Proper time and care were not things Ironwood was interested in giving him.

Many weeks and potentially some months passed in a huge and frantic mess. Agonizing pain was pushed through, due to Ironwood's need for him to be able to return to the field faster than was possible for him to achieve without further injuring himself. Something had irrevocably broken in Ironwood, and every meeting with him since Salem's invasion had proven he'd become entirely unhinged.

Clover would never stop trusting in Ironwood, but he wasn't blind. The things Clover found himself and the other Ace Ops doing were becoming increasingly unacceptable, and it all came to a head when he found out he'd been lied to.

Ironwood told him Qrow had managed to escape with the other traitors on the day of the invasion. All this time, Clover thought Qrow was fine. He'd lamented what had happened, held back his tears over the way Qrow hadn't even considered trusting him, how Qrow had sided with a known murderer, instead of him, and then apparently had simply run away to leave Clover unconscious and drowning in his own blood in the snow. Clover had felt enough longing in quiet moments that he'd gone mad at himself and decided he needed to make himself resent Qrow instead.

Finding out the truth had been pure chance. The airship he'd been on when returning from a mission had been rerouted in a failed attempt to avoid a snowstorm, which did tip him off as odd, considering that hiccups like that didn't tend to happen much around him, but this was a war and he was tired enough to not think about it too hard until they crash landed on the edge of a battlefield. Clover had never crashed before, and though the airship would still be able to fly in this condition, he now had to contend with the fight surrounding it if he wanted to get back off the ground.

Swirling and dusted snow overwhelmed both sides of the conflict, but it couldn't stop the fighting, nothing could- or so it seemed, until Clover heard the sound of another airship somewhere overhead, and a heavy thump resounded in the valley.

Suddenly, the Grimm all seemed to smell something before dashing away from their respective battles and back toward where the sound had come from. Seeing this as a perfect distraction, Clover and the other hunters and huntresses beside him used the opportunity to slay many of the fleeing Grimm, which successfully allowed Clover alone to make a path to see what had made the sound.

As Clover approached the area, he could begin to make out through the snow an idea of what was happening. The Grimm were piling on top of something that attracted them, perhaps a new device he hadn't been told about that was meant to distract the Grimm for long enough to be unaware and easier to kill. It didn't take long for Clover to find out he was both correct and horribly wrong all at once. The pile of Grimm had been easily taken care of on his own, as they hadn't payed notice to him, too busy tearing up the thing that had lured them there.

Once all Grimm in the immediate area were slain, Clover could finally get close enough to see what it was.

It was Qrow.

Covered in wounds that didn't seem to be being healed by his Aura, chained to a metal slab and clearly unable to move, Qrow silently stared into nothing. As though he wasn't present at all.

"Qrow?!"

Clover was rushing to his side in an instant, and the closer he got, the more he could tell that Qrow was actually extremely present. Tears stained his cheeks, his jaw locked tight as he breathed in and out in a stuttered manner. Never in his life had Clover seen anyone as paralyzed by fear and anguish as this.

When Clover finally reached him, he immediately began to unbuckle the cuffs, eyes roaming his bare and slashed up chest in search for any wounds that may require dire attention. "Qrow, stay with me, I'm gonna get you help. What happened, what are you doing here?"

The restraints were removed, but Qrow had yet to move. Clover pressed a signal on his scroll to notify the medics in the area that he needed help and then rested his hand gently on Qrow's cheek to guide Qrow's eyes toward his own. "Qrow, I need you to stay awake. Look at me. Look at me? Tell me what you need, are you hurt anywhere I can't see?"

Very abruptly, Qrow seemed to break free of himself, taking in a deep breath and then laughing hysterically. No one could mistake it for a happy laugh, as it dissolved into a sob. Before Clover could begin to consider understanding Qrow's uncharacteristic hysteria, he was unexpectedly shoved in the chest by Qrow, hard enough to finish the job in irritating his wound, which not only hadn't fully healed, but also had been exacerbated by all the fighting. It hurt like hell, and was probably bleeding through his shirt again by now, which was going to be annoying to deal with.

"Fuck!" Clover backed out of Qrow's reaching distance, and Qrow practically jumped in shock at the entirely normal reaction to being injured.

"You're not... You're. Clover..?"


	2. Chapter 2 truth & comfort

No sleep was dreamless anymore.

Ever since Clover's death, there came no moment that didn't seem a nightmare. Apparently, some people who worked for Ironwood wanted to study his semblance, so for weeks or months now he'd been in a specialized cell, with the occasional bit of drugged food or odd injection here and there.

Ironwood once payed him the courtesy of visiting to explain what was going to happen, even seemed almost apologetic for it. Not that it made any difference.

No one would go into great detail about it, but it seemed they discovered a way to amplify the misfortune using the fear he experienced in nightmares, and they intended to use it against Salem's army. His drug-intensified fear would lure the Grimm away, and then his amplified Bad Luck would make them careless enough to be much easier defeated. That was the plan, anyway.

Essentially, he was something akin to begin both valuable bait and an explosion of bad luck, all at once.

Over a period of time that Qrow could no longer consider keeping track of, he was utilized in this way. He'd be drugged and having nightmares about Clover and Tyrion while his body was ripped up by the Grimm until they were defeated and he was extracted. Rinse, repeat.

Most of the nightmares would start out like pleasant daydreams, where no conflict existed. After all, there's more to fear when there's more to lose. He'd be talking with Clover about trust, and getting closer, and every time they got close enough to touch, Tyrion would jump between them and push Qrow's sword through Clover's chest. Qrow would always wake up in an empty battlefield, being extracted, covered in wounds. The drugs he'd been given would disable his Aura, so they gave him brief breaks in between being used for different missions.

This time was a little bit different. At first, all was normal- the dream started out well, ended horribly, and he woke up torn apart- but this time, when he woke up, Clover was still there. He assumed they must have given him an extra large dose for the dream to echo back like this, starting all over again. This must be when he dies. So, instead of waiting for the nice part to play out and the dark part of the dream to arrive, Qrow did what he could to make it stop, shoving Clover in the chest to get him away from Tyrion, who would surely be showing up any moment now, as he always did.

Instead, Tyrion did not arrive, the dream ended, and Clover stood there, shouting at him in pain. Real.

"You're not... You're. Clover..?" It didn't make sense. Qrow had been there as Clover died in his arms. So, completely dumbfounded, Qrow had no idea what to do except for to state what had previously seemed obvious. "You're dead."

Clover just squinted at him as if he were a mad man. "Clearly not. No thanks to you. Wanna tell me what the hell you're doing?"

Despite shaking violently from the cold, the pain, and the nightmare, Qrow silently reached into his pocket to reveal Clover's pin, holding it out to him in offering.

Clover had already gotten a new and improved replacement, having thought the original to be lost and buried in the snow somewhere. Before Clover could take it back, Qrow dropped the pin and fell to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

An extraction team arrived not long after that for Qrow, and Clover hitched a ride with them, intent not to lose track of Qrow. On the ride back, he began to piece things together. Clearly, Qrow was being used by Ironwood somehow. The others on the airship told him that the reasons for Qrow being on the battlefield were classified, so Clover held his tongue and waited.

A lengthy conversation with Ironwood later, Clover was still no closer to the truth.

Knowing for certain now that something extremely important was being hidden from him, Clover wasn't about to give up, so with a bit of educated guesswork and some strategic subterfuge, he managed to locate and infiltrate the cell in which they kept Qrow.

Qrow had his back turned and didn't seem to have heard Clover's footsteps, so Clover quietly crept toward him, covering Qrow's mouth with his hand to stop him from making any sudden loud noises.

He spoke as softly as he could manage, not wanting to alert anyone outside the cell that he was there. "Ironwood is keeping you from me, and I need to know why. What were you doing, chained up on that battlefield? Why were the Grimm attracted to you?"

Slowly, Clover lowered his hand from Qrow's face, allowing Qrow to turn around and face him. Qrow seemed to be significantly more calm and collected now than he was last time they saw one another. "I'm shocked. Ironwood, keeping secrets? Couldn't be."

With a self-calming breath, Clover took it in. Qrow was right that Ironwood had always kept secrets, but Clover had always been kept in the loop about the important things. That was why he always knew he could trust him. This, though? Ironwood knew that Clover had been devastated about Qrow leaving him for dead, and he'd kept this from him anyway. What reason could Ironwood possibly have for hiding Qrow? He wondered. "Don't dodge the question, Qrow."

Something like a hitched bit of air came out of Qrow, and Clover watched as he made a stilted movement as if to reach for him only to pull back and harden his eyes, bracing for something. "Truth is, I don't know what they're doing to me here, Clover, but it's not good." Qrow paused, no longer able to meet Clover's gaze. "It has something to do with my semblance. They keep drugging me with something and by the time I wake up, it's like I was hit by a train. I think I'm being used as some kinda bait, but they didn't bother explaining it to me in full."

The closer Clover looked at Qrow the more he could see the bags under his eyes, the many injuries in drastically varied states of recovery, and yet he didn't seem completely broken, somehow. Standing strong against all the bad things that happened to him. "This doesn't make sense. How long have you been in here?"

Qrow tried to shrug, but he winced in pain instead. "Weeks. Months, maybe. Since the authorities came to pull me away from your corpse, I guess."

Understanding began to dawn on Clover. The lies went further back than he thought- all the way. All this time, while he was trying to be angry with Qrow for abandoning him, Qrow was being tortured by Ironwood in the name of war. Unable to hold himself back, Clover grabbed on to Qrow, delicately holding him close and burying his face in Qrow's neck.

"Ow." Qrow complained, before lifting his own hands to Clover's back, pulling him closer. He was so tired, but he refused to shut his eyes, instead keeping them wide open to watch for the Tyrion of his nightmares to show up and ruin everything. When it became clear that wasn't going to happen, Qrow let himself go, sinking into Clover properly and nuzzling him the slightest bit.

Clover didn't fight the tears. He didn't know what to believe in anymore, but at least this time, he had Qrow on his side. "I'm-"

"I'm sorry." Qrow interrupted, his voice quivering somewhat.

Clover chuckled, wondering if Qrow knew that was what he'd been about to say. "I'm gonna get you out of here, Qrow. I won't let you die in here."

It wasn't difficult to figure out that Clover wasn't the only one crying, their mirrored injured chests both stuttering unpleasantly with neither ready to let go. Qrow shook his head into Clover's shoulder to let him feel the soft refusal. "You serious? After I nearly got you killed."

"My blind faith got you tortured. It's not a question, Qrow. I want you to look at me." Clover pulled away from their hug just barely enough to make eye contact, as determined as ever. "I've had enough lies. We're getting out of here. Together."

Qrow felt his heart move up to his throat, all the grief and longing propelling him forward until he could no longer prevent himself from kissing Clover, who melted into it just as well, sliding his hand up to run through Qrow's hair. The kiss wasn't an act of seduction or passion, but rather of care and comfort, a method of communication to say 'I trust you.' and 'It's going to be okay now.'.

And they did trust each other. It really was going to be okay.


End file.
